


Free

by HeroMaggie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha!Anders, Awakening Anders - Freeform, Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Mention of Bethany/Nathaniel, Mention of Carver/Merrill, Omega!Fenris, canon style violence, courting, mention of Hawke/Isabela
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 14:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5969956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroMaggie/pseuds/HeroMaggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris was willing to risk his very life to remain free. Finding himself safe in a bed after a vicious fight with his former master was unexpected. Finding out that he was Omega was life altering. Discovering he was Matched with a mage? A cruel twist of fate...or the key to him discovering how to be free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emotionalmorphine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalmorphine/gifts).



> This was taken from a prompt on Tumblr sent to me by Emotionalmorphine. They wanted me to work in as many of these as possible:
> 
> 1- : “Why are you resisting your nature?”  
> 55-: “Are you in heat or something? I didn’t even know you were an Omega…”  
> 74-: “Do you see me at all? Or am I just a couple of holes to fuck?”  
> 8- : “Look at your neck. Look at the marks I left. You are mine. And solely mine.”  
> 17- : “Your smell is… intoxicating. If I stay I’m going to knot you.”  
> 28- : “I-I want… N-no need… I… fuck… I-I’m confused.”  
> 38-: “I don’t need you. I can do this alone.”  
> 45-: “Please, protect me while I’m in heat. I’m not ready to be claimed.” 
> 
> I tried. I hope this lives up to your expectations!

Fenris’ fist plunged into his attacker’s chest. The woman screamed and dropped, her blood dripping from his gauntlets as he yanked out her heart. Turning, he dodged a downward swipe from a rage demon. His sword took the demon in what would have been its neck, the beast roaring and bursting into cinders.

He was gaining ground and slowly closing with the man that that he had called Master. His sword came up to parry another attack, and he laughed, the laugh turning into a wheezing gasp as a dagger sliced into his side. He spun, took the rogue’s head, and yelled, “I will die before I return to your side, Danarius!”

“It is Master, Pet, and you will learn your place,” The older man said, his hands clenching into fists.

Pain surged over Fenris as Danarius’ magic hit him. Something snapped in his chest, and suddenly, he couldn’t get enough air. He choked out a laugh. “You will have to crush me to win.”

Danarius’ response was to fling his arms out and claw at the air. Fenris felt his leg give way, and he fell, catching himself on his hand. The pain was excruciating: every breath, every movement, made it spike and grate. He was dying, and he didn’t care. Dying now meant dying free.

Black leather boots skidded into his line of vision. He heard Danarius ask a question, but was distracted by the sudden appearance of a barrier around him and the boots. His markings flared in response to the sudden casting, and Fenris tensed against the wave of pain he expected. No new pain swept over him; there was just a haze of warmth and the constant agony in his chest.

Warm, hazel eyes set in a handsome friendly face settled into his view. “Mage…” he whispered, licking at his cracked lips. “I. Will not. Go back.”

“You won’t. I swear it,” the man said. “You’re safe now.”

The words made him choke on a laugh. “Never safe. Danarius will always find me.”

“If you mean the older man, he’s dead. Nathaniel took him out with an arrow to the forehead.” The words accompanied the slide of a warm hand over his face. There was a snap of awareness and the smell of lavender and mint. The man inhaled sharply, eyes widening, hand stiffening briefly before relaxing and a wave of numbness covered him.

“What...what was that?” Fenris rasped, grasping at the man’s wrist.

“What’s your name?” The numbness settled, and he could feel his grasp on consciousness fading.

“Fenris.” he breathed. “I am Fenris. Who…”

“Anders.” The man smiled. “I’m Anders, and I swear to Andraste herself that you are safe.”

Fenris coughed, chest heaving. He tried to tighten his grip on Anders’ wrist but couldn’t feel his hands. His lips tried to form words, the sounds coming out as a breathy hiss of air.

“Hush. Sleep. I’ve got you. Sleep.” Fingers brushed over Fenris’ face. As he went lax, he felt arms wrapping around him and lifting him. Then, he felt nothing.

***

There was a cat on his chest, a lean tabby with large orange eyes and long white whiskers. Fenris shifted and claws dug warningly into him. Fenris hissed, but the cat ignored him and lowered its head to lick at one paw. Fenris slowly raised his good hand and gently pet the cat’s head.

“I am not your bed,” Fenris groused.

The cat mrrped in response and butted up against his chin.

“I have no food,” Fenris said, even has he rubbed behind one ear.

The cat let out a purr that rumbled through Fenris’ chest. It was soothing, a gentle noise that lulled him. He let his eyes drift shut, fingers going lax in soft fur. His own purrs joined the cat’s.

When he next opened his eyes, the cat was gone. Fenris turned his head, the scent on the pillow catching his attention: lavender, mint, and elfroot. He tried to place the smell, the familiar soothing notes tickling his memory. His hand moved over a soft blanket, and he finally noticed the comfortable warm bed he was in. No shackles chained him, and no collar encircled his neck. He levered himself up on his good elbow to look at the room.

It was spacious. There was a rack near the door holding a staff, a bookcase filled with tomes, a fat wood stove, and comfortably worn chairs. It was pleasant and most definitely not a cell or a room in an inn. It spoke of a home, of comfort and warmth. Intimacy. Things Fenris was unfamiliar with.

Fear gripped Fenris; the uncertainty of where he was combined with his injuries making him try to sit. He managed to get his legs over the bed before he stopped. The nightshirt he was wearing was too large and made of a fine cotton. It also smelled of lavender and mint. His left leg was thickly bandaged from the ankle to the upper thigh. Fenris poked at his leg and recoiled at the sharp pain.

“I wouldn’t try to stand on it. I managed to heal the breaks, but it’s all very delicate.” The voice was mild and friendly. Fenris’ gaze snapped up to the doorway to see a tall man with a wide smile. In his arms was the cat.

“I’m Anders. Remember me?”

Fenris shook his head, dropping his gaze.

“The mage from the coast?” Anders moved into the room, placing the cat on the bed before going to poke the fire. “No? Ah well. You were pretty injured.”

Fenris kept his eyes down, his good hand clenching into a fist. The mage must not have noticed because he kept talking. “It was a miracle we saw you fighting. You had several broken ribs, a pierced lung, a broken hand, a deep wound in your side, and your leg had been pulped. Plus various scrapes and bruises.”

Hands entered Fenris’ vision and he realized too late that they were scooping under his legs to put him back to bed. He glanced up quickly and then froze when the mage...Anders...gently tucked him in. “That’s Ser Pounce-a-Lot. Or just Pounce.”

“He was sleeping on me.” Fenris managed. His voice was gritty with disuse. “Where…”

“This is my room. There’s only two rooms down here set up for actually sleeping, and I didn’t think you’d want to share with Nate. He’s grouchy. Though maybe you would, he was the one to take down that magister.” The words had Fenris jolting and grabbing for Anders’ arm. “What? Oh. Yes, he’s dead. What was his name? Damon...Daren…”

“Danarius,” Fenris said, clearing his throat.

Anders picked up a pitcher from the bedside table and poured Fenris a mug of water. Sitting down on the bed, Anders offered Fenris the cup. “Careful. How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Fine as in you don’t hurt or fine as in you don’t want to tell me?” Anders reached forward and wiped a dribble of water from Fenris’ chin. Fenris jerked back.

“Do not touch me, mage.”

“Ah. So that’s how it is.” Anders settled back and tugged on a gold hoop in his ear.

Fenris sneered. “How what is? I am at your whim. Another filthy mage has captured me. How will you use me?”

“Hey! I bathe!” Anders rolled his eyes. “Awfully cranky for somebody whose life I saved.”

“Do not pretend to be my friend. You are a mage. I am a slave.” Fenris sniffed, finishing his water. He ground his teeth, hissing when Pounce settled over his legs. “Your cat is on me.”

“He’s his own cat,” Anders said mildly. “And you aren’t a slave.”

“Then I may leave?”

“Of course not.” At Fenris’ look of outrage, Anders held up his hands. “As I said, your leg will break again. Your hand is still healing, as are your ribs. If you aren’t careful, you will get an inflammation of the lungs. And then there’s the blood loss and malnutrition.” Anders ticked the list of ailments off his fingers. “Plus your impending Heat.”

“My impending what?” Fenris squawked.

“Your Heat. I can tell you’re going to be going into one soon. I had to heal you pretty thoroughly, otherwise I would have missed the signs.” Anders neatly nabbed the mug from Fenris’ hand and refilled it. “If you feel up to it, I should find out what happens when you do go into Heat. It would be best if I plan now for the foods you like and whatnot.”

“I am no Omega,” Fenris sneered. “I am Beta. Danarius would never have an Omega as his bodyguard, and he never had Alphas on staff.”

Anders held out the mug of water, gaze steady on Fenris. “Are you telling me that you’ve gone your entire life with no Heat?”

“Why would I even get one? I lived in a house of Betas and Omegas. Danarius knew not to...he knew...he…”

“He what?” Anders put the cup down. “Fenris, he knew what?”

“He said my markings would let me pass for Alpha. If we were at an event, he gave me a potion to strengthen that response. ” Fenris frowned, his good hand fisting. A growl was all the warning Anders had before Fenris’ markings lit and his fist punched the wall next to the bed.

Anders closed his eyes. “Your markings are lyrium. They must interfere with your body’s responses until...oh. And he reinforced them with suppressants. Sweet Maker.”

Fenris glared at Anders, who stood. He pulled the hair tie from his hair and tugged at the long red-gold strands. “Maker’s breath.”

“I will not be your plaything. I would rather die than…”

“Andraste’s flaming arse, I need a moment.” Anders turned and stomped from the room.

Fenris stared at the cat that had relocated to the end of the bed during his tantrum. “Well?”

Pounce stood and pranced up the bed to curl up on his lap. A gentle purring filled the room and Fenris sighed, slowly relaxing into the pillows. Pounce dug one claw into his thigh, and he grunted and began to pet him.

When Anders returned, he was much more subdued. Scratching at the stubble on his chin, he sat on the edge of Fenris’ bed. “So, we should talk.”

Fenris snorted at that. “You do seem to enjoy hearing yourself blather on.”

Anders closed his eyes as if searching for patience. “Right. That’s actually not the first time I’ve heard that. I know, big surprise. Look, I’m not just a mage, alright? I’m an Alpha mage.”

“And…”

“Maker grant me strength. Do you understand anything about being Omega? About Alphas? About mating and courtship?”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “I was a slave. We did not mate. We did not court. We did what our Master said. What part of slave do you not understand?”

“I’m not stupid; I understand. I just wondered if your former master ever...maybe...thought to try to mate you. Or…”

“If you are asking if he used me in that fashion, the answer is no. He would not risk his precious investment for something that a body slave could do,” Fenris scoffed. “I was his bodyguard.”

“You didn’t always have the lyrium though, right? What about before? Or did you grow up in that madman’s house?” Anders had begun to pet Pounce, not looking up from the cat.

Fenris hunched his shoulders, tilting his head so that his hair covered his face. “I have no memories of before the ritual. I do not know.” The words were softly spoken. He thinned his lips. “My first memories are of pain and Danarius’ touch.”

Anders rubbed a hand over his face. “So if I told you we’re a match, you would say…”

“The idea of you touching me makes me ill.”

“That’s what I thought.” Anders stood again and began to pace. “I don’t know if Danarius kept you suppressed because he was afraid the markings wouldn’t or so that you didn’t attract an Alpha.”

Fenris glared at Anders, who sighed and left the room. Pounce tilted his head at Fenris and nestled back down.

“Why do you not follow him?” Fenris asked while petting one ear.

Pounce rolled over and exposed his belly, a look of supreme happiness on his face. Fenris sighed, “What am I to do?”

Pounce stared at him, one paw waving lazily in the air. Fenris took the hint and gently pet over Pounces’ belly. The cat reached out and grabbed his hand, claws sheathed, and dragged it closer. Fenris held still while Pounce began to groom his hand.

Fenris gave another sigh. He was stuck in a room with a cat. “At least you are not a mage.” Pounce bit Fenris finger and then returned to grooming. “Though perhaps you are possessed.”

***

Boredom set in. It could have been hours or days since Anders had left, and with no window in the room, Fenris couldn’t tell. Stuck in bed with only a cat for company was jarring. He was used to being on the move, to constant vigilance, to nights spent traveling and days spent curled up somewhere trying to sleep.

All the running had honed his senses, but made it virtually impossible to relax. And thinking about what Anders had told him did not, exactly, help. Every shift on the bed made the smells of lavender and mint waft through the air. Worse than reminding him of Anders, the smells soothed him. He found himself, more than once, pulling at the sheet so he could smell it.

It was maddening.

So when there was a knock on the door, Fenris perked up. It wasn’t Anders who stepped into the room but a young woman. Big blue eyes widened, and she hesitated before moving further in.

“Hello.” She gestured at the chair. “May I sit?”

“I cannot stop you,” Fenris said while frowning.

“You could say no. I’d respect that.”

Fenris snorted. “What do you want with me?”

“I’m Bethany Hawke. Anders asked me to come down and talk to you. He thought I might be a better option than my brother, even though I’m a mage too. I’m an Omega, so is my brother.” Bethany settled herself on the chair. “I thought maybe you’d like to talk about...things…”

“I am not...I do not wish…” Fenris huffed. “I do not require your aid or Anders’. I can figure this out on my own.”

Bethany hesitated. Her chin tilted up stubbornly. “Sometimes we say we don’t need help because we really don’t need it, and sometimes we say that because we’re just being difficult.”

Fenris turned his gaze to his lap. “What do you want me to say? I was told my Master is dead, but I still find myself being kept by a mage. I am injured, at his mercy, and now he tells me I am Omega? I am a slave...I was a slave, Bethany. How should I feel knowing that I will always be a slave?”

Bethany sat back. “Is that what you think being Omega means?”

“Omegas only seek Alphas to breed,” Fenris sneered. “To the Alphas, they are nothing but a hole.”

“I see. I should tell my Mate that, then.”

Fenris’ met Bethany’s gaze for a half second looking down again. “Your Mate?”

“Well, we haven’t Mated yet. We’re courting. Nathaniel Howe. He’s a warden and here with Anders. He’s an Alpha and we are a match.” Bethany smiled, her face lighting up. “He makes my life more complete.”

“What about when you are in Heat?”

“He helps me through it. Usually he brings me foods I like, reads to me, rubs my back and brushes my hair. I get terrible back pains during my Heats. We don’t do anything more than cuddling. I’m not ready.” Bethany blushed.

Fenris’ ear twitched. “You do not have to…”

“No. I take a suppressant that lowers the time I am in Heat and negates the need to...to...anyways, Anders said he’s afraid to give you a suppressant. He doesn’t know what your former Master used and doesn’t wish to make anything worse. That’s why I’m here.”

Fenris hesitated. “Anders sent you here?”

“He would have sent Carver, but we weren’t sure Carver could behave. He tends to get touchy about being Omega.”

“Is he a mage as well?” Fenris asked.

“Nope. Neither is my older sister, Marian. She’s a Beta and with another Beta. And Carver is Mated to an Alpha mage. Nathaniel and I are looking at Mating this Spring. We wanted to wait to see what would happen, get permission from his Commander.” Bethany’s cheeks pinked. “I wasn’t ready at any rate.”

“Why does Anders care?”

Bethany smiled. “That’s a question for him. I know he can be a bit of a chatterbox, but he’s got a good heart. Now, do you have any questions?”

“Will it hurt?” Fenris seemed to shrink in on himself. “Will Anders…”

“Anders would never rape you, Fenris. And if you hurt, he’ll try to help. I’ve offered to help if it becomes too much for him, so has my sister. Heats can last a week. They’re different for every Omega. You’ll get it once every three months. Your Mate will help you through them.”

“I do not have…”

Bethany held up her hand. “Nobody is pressuring you, Fenris. Now, I’m going to go get Anders. He said something about a bath and hot food.”

Fenris’ stomach chose that moment to growl, making Bethany grin. “Thank you, Bethany.”

“Would you want me to visit again?”

He looked up into her big blue eyes briefly, nodding before dropping his gaze. She brushed her hand over his shoulder. He heard her open the door and the the door closing, his gaze still on his hands.

***

Being a patient was tedious. Being a patient of Anders was tedious and nerve-wracking. Fenris found himself both looking forward to and dreading seeing him. The combination of emotions combined with the non-stop monotony of being in bed slowly turned him even more snappish and disagreeable. Every time he lashed out, he expected Anders to retaliate. Instead, Anders looked pleased and murmured something about him healing well.

It was a glorious day when Anders helped him from bed and gave him some leggings to wear. His legs were shaky and weak, and it hurt to stand for too long. Still, he was up and moving. Anders walked him to the hallway and then showed him the stairs.

“Want to go upstairs? Maybe sit in the garden?” Anders was giving him a hopeful look. “Take lunch in the sun?”

“I...suppose…” Fenris said slowly. He moved to take a step up and found himself held back. Anders’ arms slid behind his legs, and he was hoisted up against Anders’ chest. “Mage…”

“My name is Anders,” Anders said patiently. “No stairs just yet. Let’s give your legs a chance to simply walk.”

Fenris huffed and lay stiff in Anders’ arms as he moved up the multiple staircases. “We’re in the lowest basement of the Hawke mansion,” Anders said as he started up another flight of stairs.

“Why?”

“My clinic is in Darktown, the slums of Kirkwall. Darktown sits in old mining tunnels under the city. Nathaniel and I were given rooms near the doors that open into Darktown. Convenient.”

“You have a clinic?” Fenris glanced at Anders’ face in surprise. “Who visits you in the sewers?”

“The refugees. There are a lot of people who escaped Ferelden’s Blight by coming here. When I told the Commander I needed to go to Kirkwall, she sent Nathaniel with me and tasked us with looking for Blight sickness. It’s how I stay free here,” Anders explained.

“Stay free. You are no slave.” Fenris scoffed.

“No. I’m a mage. The Knight Commander here is very strict. She…” Anders’ face fell, his voice quieting. “Well anyways. Without Nathaniel, I’d be locked in the Gallows.”

Fenris fingers twitched. “Tevinter has Circles. They are places of luxury and learning. Danarius belonged to one. He was never locked away.”

“Yes well, things are a little different here in the South. Mages are kept locked in the Circle. Taken from their families like criminals.” Anders shrugged. “But I’m with the Wardens now.”

“You are with the Wardens? You are not a Warden?” Fenris prodded.

“It’s complicated,” Anders said. “Let’s just leave it at that for now.”

Fenris snorted and then quieted as Anders opened a door and stepped out into a pantry. He gently put Fenris down. “Right, let’s get some food and then check out the garden.”

The pantry sat in the kitchen, which was manned by a young elf. She looked up at Anders and smiled shyly. “Master Anders…”

“Orana, what have I said before?” Anders chided.

“Oh. I’m sorry. Anders...I have food made. Meat pies, some little fruit tarts, a bottle of wine, and cheese.” Orana patted a small hamper on the table. “Dinner is braised rabbit with potatoes and leeks, an herb salad, and fresh bread. And I made that pudding you like.”

“Are you trying to lure me to dinner?” Anders teased.

“Did you eat last night?” Orana didn’t look at him, but her voice held a note of reproach.

“Well...maybe I gave my supper away to a family. Fenris is up and about, set some aside for the both of us? Oh! This is Fenris. Fenris, this is Orana.” Anders flushed. “Rude of me to not do introductions.”

“You are from Tevinter,” Fenris rasped.

“I am from Tevinter, yes. I was a slave, but Mistress Hawke killed my Mistress and gave me a job here. I am her cook. She pays me.” Orana peeked up at Anders. “Ma...Anders has been teaching me to read.”

“And you’re a quick study. You’ll not need me anymore soon and then how will I beg my favorite desserts from you?” Anders asked.

Orana shook her head and returned to cooking. Anders grinned and grabbed the hamper of food. “Come on Fenris. The garden is a pretty little plot.”

Fenris followed Anders, his gaze on Orana. She looked up, met Fenris’ gaze and smiled. Her smile was free, open, and happy. It made Fenris’ heart pound to see a former slave so happy and content and not afraid.

He wondered if he would ever feel that happy and content.

***

The sound of scratching had Fenris slowly moving across the room to open the door. Pounce gave a little meow and sashayed in, tail curling around Fenris’ bare ankle. He shook his head at the cat, an amused smile on his face.

“Pounce. Why are you here?” Fenris slowly returned to the bed, settling down and petting the cat. “Is it just you?”

“And me,” Anders said as he poked his head in. “How are you feeling? You’ve been doing so well this past week. Any pain?”

“Antsy,” Fenris said, keeping his eyes on Pounce. “And my back hurts.”

Anders stepped into the room and came to a stop. “Ah.”

“Ah?”

“Your Heat is starting.” Anders swallowed. “Just antsy and back pains?”

“My skin feels sensitive,” Fenris admitted.

“May I sit on the bed?”

Fenris glanced at Anders and nodded, returning to petting Pounce. Slowly, Anders perched on the bed and also began petting Pounce. Their fingers bumped together, and Fenris inhaled at the touch. Anders didn’t say anything, just laid his hand over Fenris’.

“Hey.”

“I am fine. Just uncomfortable.” Fenris frowned at Anders’ hand, but didn’t pull away.

“So here’s the thing. I’m going to set up a cot in here for me. I don’t want you alone during this.”

“I am not ready to consider…”

“I’m not doing this to mate or claim or even touch you. You’re still healing, you’ve never gone through this before, and I really do consider you my responsibility,” Anders said, giving Fenris’ hand a light squeeze. “I want to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Fenris’ frown had deepened.

“Is that so hard to understand? It’s what friends do, yes?” Anders tilted his head, trying to catch Fenris’ gaze.

“Friends? I do not know. I have never had a friend.” Fenris tugged and Anders let his hand go.

“You have me and Bethany. And in a few more weeks you’ll be practically back to normal. I can introduce you to the rest of my friends. They all want to meet you.”

“Protection. Not claiming,” Fenris said, finally meeting Anders’ eyes.

“I promise. I won’t even touch you if you don’t wish me to.”

Fenris curled his fingers into loose fists and nodded, gaze dropping back down to the cat. Anders patted Pounce and stood, quickly walking from the room.

It seemed like mere minutes before he was back, a pile of blankets and pillows in his arms. He dropped them by stove, gave Fenris a grin, and hurried back out, only to return lugging a cot. He set the cot up and began to pile everything on top of it.

When that was done, he left again - returning with an armful of books and paper and a small box tucked under his arm. He placed those items by his cot, tapped his chin, and then nodded.

“Books and paper, blankets and pillows...I’ll get food as necessary…” Anders ticked items off on his fingers. “I can start reading lessons if you’d like.”

“Reading lessons. Why…”

“Do you know how to read? Why didn’t you say so? I could have brought you books,” Anders said in dismay.

“I cannot read.” Fenris was back to staring at Pounce.

“Well then, that’s something we can do over the next week we’re together.” Anders closed the door and settled on the cot. “Oh I see how it is. Pounce is going to stay with you. Fine, fine. Traitor.”

Fenris gave a surprised chuckle. “He prefers it quiet. You are not quiet.”

Anders rolled his eyes and picked up a book. “Whatever. You like my blathering.” Fenris just snorted and curled up on the bed, purring when Pounce joined him.

***

Fenris stuck his tongue out, concentrating as he traced the letter A on his paper. He stared at it and then started work on the B. When that letter was finished, he frowned and glanced at the book next to him.

“C…” he sounded out. “C is for s….at. Why does it say sat but have a picture of a cat?”

Anders looked up from his own book. “It’s a C, but it’s got a hard sound, like cake or cat.”

“C is for cat.” Fenris huffed and turned the pages in the book. “A is for apple. B is for ball.C is for cat.” He glanced up at Anders and then turned another page.

“Do you need help?”

“No,” Fenris said while frowning at the next letter. His back spasmed and he gasped, curling up and rocking.

“Fenris. Hey, what happened? Back pain?” Anders was down on the floor before Fenris could respond. “Shh. I have you.”

“Anders.” Fenris stiffened. Anders was rolling him to his stomach and straddling his hips. “Mage…”

“You were doing so well,” Anders teased. “Calling me Anders first. Now I want you to breathe for me.”

“I am breathing.”

“Hush and focus on breathing.” Anders dug his fingers into Fenris’ back, finding and working out the knots. Under him, Fenris slowly relaxed. A soft purring started as Anders smoothed out the kinks. By the time he was done, Fenris was limp.

“There,” Anders whispered, slipping off of Fenris.

Fenris rolled to his side to look at Anders, peeking up at him through his bangs. Anders was busy turning the pages in the reader, absorbed for a moment with the cute pictures. Fenris could feel the sudden surge of want. It wasn’t, necessarily, a sexual feeling - more of a compulsion to touch, to slide onto Anders’ lap and just hide from the world. A need for reassurance.

Breath hitching, he held still, gaze firmly on the book. Anders looked over at him and put the book down. “Fenris?” he gently asked.

“I…”

“Look at me. Hey. It’s ok. Look at me,” Anders coaxed. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand these feelings. These urges. I have never felt this. Even for Danarius. Even when I thought that I…” Fenris rolled back to his stomach and buried his face in his arms. “What is this?”

Anders’ fingers swept through his hair, brushing it back from his face. “It’s how you know you’re with the right Alpha. I get the feelings too.”

“What feelings? Please…”

“To protect you. To hold you close and make sure you’re alright. To feed you and comfort you,” Anders said. “Did you think Heats were all mating?”

“Are they not? Am I nothing but a hole to fill? A person to fuck and breed? Isn’t that all I am to you?” Fenris lifted his head and glared at Anders.

“Heats are to breed, yes. But why would you breed with an Alpha who doesn’t cherish you? These feelings just let us know we’re a match. That we’re good together. That I want to take care of you means that if you were carrying my baby, I would keep you safe. You wanting me to touch you shows me that you trust me.” Anders explained.

“I…”

“Would you like to try?”

Fenris hesitated. Fear welled up in him. Fear and suspicion and want melding together until he trembled. “Will this bond us together?”

“No.”

“Just touching? No kissing, no anything else?” Fenris slowly pushed himself up.

Anders’ response was to stand and go sit on the bed with his back to the wall and his legs stretched out. He parted his legs and patted the bed between them.Fenris stood and moved to the bed, biting his lip as he crawled over Anders’ leg and settled with his back against Anders’ chest.

Anders carefully wrapped his arms around Fenris and entwined their legs. Fenris waited to feel kisses on his ear or for Anders to try to take advantage. All that happened was Anders squeezing him. Anders’ smell surrounded him - lavender and mint - relaxing and soothing.

Fenris blinked, and in the time his eyes closed and opened, he found himself on his side with Anders behind him on the bed. Wrapped in Anders’ arms, he could feel Anders’ slow breaths against his ear.

They had fallen asleep curled up together. Waking in Anders’ arms left Fenris feeling vulnerable and yet like he was safe. Wanted, cared for. It made him wonder if this was what a home felt like.

If this was how Anders acted during his Heat, Fenris wondered how he would act when he could leave. Would he force Fenris to stay? Would he let Fenris go?

“You think loudly,” Anders whispered, making Fenris start. “What are you worrying over?”

“When I am healed, will you make me stay with you?” Fenris stiffened, waiting for Anders to turn possessive.

“I hope you’ll stay in Kirkwall. Maybe decide to do some work with Hawke or get on with Aveline and the Guard. But I can’t make you do anything, Fenris. If you, truly, wanted to leave - I’d let you.”

“I thought you said we were a match,” Fenris said with much annoyance. “You would just let me go?”

Fenris could tell Anders’ was laughing by the way his shoulders shook. “Well see, I thought I was already trying to convince you to stay. Picnics in the garden, reading lessons, your favorite foods, back rubs.” Anders teased. “What more do you want?”

“You are…”

“I’m courting you.” Anders nuzzled against Fenris’ neck. “I don’t expect you to stay in my room any longer, but perhaps a small flat in Lowtown? Hawke would help you get one and help you find employment. Then I could do this properly.”

“And my Heat? What you’ve been doing?”

“I’ve been showing you I’d make you a good Alpha.” Anders laughed. “Or trying to. Is it working?”

Fenris gaped at the wall. “I...I think I need you to show me a few more times?”

“Well, we probably have another three days. Think that’s enough time to convince you I’m serious?”

“I…” Fenris coughed to hide his giddy laugh. “Yes. I think perhaps.”

“Excellent. And now, if you’re awake, how about I get some food?”

Fenris grabbed Anders’ hand. “Apples? May I have apples?”

“Fenris,” Anders said seriously, “You can have whatever you want.”


	2. Chapter 2

Fenris watched Anders unlock the slightly battered door to a small house situated in the upper Lowtown Market district. There were vendors on either side of them selling food: a baker and a produce cart. Fenris eyed the produce cart with interest. There were apples for sale, and they were for sale just outside of his new home.

Anders finally wrangled the door open and stepped in, moving aside so that Fenris could walk into the small foyer.

“And here we are,” Anders said, grinning. “I hope you like it.”

“You picked it out?” Fenris asked while looking around.

“Well, yes. It’s near the stairs into Hightown and not too far from Hawke’s mansion,” Anders explained.

“And you are staying at Hawke’s mansion?” Fenris peeked up at Anders and then began down the narrow hall.

“Ah. I thought…”

Fenris ignore him for a moment. The hall ended in the kitchen. Grimy windows overlooked a tiny plot of land in the back. A battered table sat in the middle of the room, complete with equally battered chairs. The stove needed a scrubbing, but looked in decent shape. The water pump and sink were actually tidy. A narrow door opened to a small stoop. For reasons he couldn’t explain, it all made him smile.

“There’s a sitting room on this floor and a small wash room. Upstairs are two bedrooms and another washroom. The house also has a small attic.” Anders watched Fenris touch the stove, his brows scrunched together. “You alright?”

“My mother….she cooked…” Fenris said slowly, fingers stroking the cold iron. He blinked and looked at Anders. “She wore a blue apron.”

Anders moved slowly, giving Fenris time to say no. When there were no objections, he gathered Fenris into a hug. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I...am. Yes.” Fenris closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Yes.”

“So, want to see the upstairs? I can wait here.” Anders gave him a bright smile. Fenris swallowed and nodded. He gave the kitchen another look and then returned to the hallway.

The upstairs bedrooms were identical - good sized beds, small armoires, a dresser, white walls, and scuffed wood floors. The washroom sat between them and had a water pump, an actual tub, and the usual small commode.

It was more than Fenris had had in his entire life.

Returning downstairs, he wondered if he could do this - live on his own, wake up every morning to the quiet, work, and return. He had gotten used to Pounce being around, to Anders being around. It was frightening, the thought of all this freedom - the freedom to decide if he worked that day, if he ate, if he even got dressed.

Overwhelmed, he returned to the kitchen and sat down. Anders was still smiling, the look a hair strained. “So?”

“I do not know if I can do this,” Fenris admitted.

“Do what?”

“Live here. I do not know how to do this.”

Anders scratched at his chin and then tugged his earring. “You were on the run. Did you not settle anywhere for a while?”

“I was always on the move. I never spent more than week in any one town. To do so would have tempted fate.”

“Ah…” Anders placed both hands on the table. “You could stay at Hawke’s…”

“Why could you not move in as well? I would miss Pounce and…” He watched as Anders brightened.

“If you’re sure…”

Fenris grimaced. “As sure as I am about anything.”

“Oh. Well...then...we can move tomorrow?”

“Why not today?”

Anders grinned, “Because it’s card night and you’re coming with me. It would be good for you to make friends.”

“You wish me to meet people?”

“Aveline will be there. Hawke, Merrill, Carver, Bethany, Nathaniel...Isabela...Varric, of course,” Anders ticked names off his hand. “Sebastian, but he’s a poncy git. I don’t think I’m missing anybody…”

“And you wish them to meet me?” Fenris asked, surprised.

“Of course. They are my friends. Well, Sebastian isn’t. But everybody else is. Please? It would be good for you to get out and meet new people,” Anders said pleadingly.

“Oh well...since you said please…”

Anders laughed. “Alright. Well, shall we return to the mansion? I should try to do a little healing before tonight.”

***

The Hanged Man was a loud, dirty, smelly tavern. The clientele ran the gamut from off-duty guardsmen to grifters. It was a place to go and drink away your old problems and gain new ones. Anders friends congregated in a suite of rooms located on the second floor - rooms owned by his friend Varric.

Unlike the bar, the rooms were well appointed, clean, and decorated with an odd mix of Dwarven art and Marcher sensibilities. It was rather like Varric - a curious blend of Dwarven pragmatism wrapped up in a rogue’s twinkle.

Fenris rather liked him.

The rest of the group faded into a swirl of names and faces, smiles and jokes. Few stood out - Isabela with her knowing looks, Bethany with her shy smile, Hawke with her charm and laugh. He tried to remember them all, each name with each face, but found it easier to distill each person down into their most basic impressions.

It was a skill all slaves possessed - the ability to judge a person based on a split second look and the sound of their voice. First impressions and gut instinct were how he kept his Master safe. Later, it was how he kept himself free, how he knew if a person was sincere or a danger.

Anders, for all of his overbearing ways, was not a danger. He gave off an aura of sincerity in everything he did: from healing him to asking before each touch. This evening, Anders had settled Fenris in a comfortable chair, fetched him a glass of red wine to drink, and was working to draw him into the conversation.

The sound of his name drew him back into the conversation. “I am sorry, I did not hear you.”

“I asked if you played cards, handsome.” Isabela was leaning against the table, her breasts on full display. She saw the direction of his gaze and grinned. “Strip Diamondback?”

“Absolutely not,” Aveline huffed.

“Aw, come on Av. Loosen up. Take off the breastplate,’ Isabela cajoled. “Anders, what do you think? You’ve seen our new friend in his skivvies…”

Anders flushed and tugged on his earring. “Izzy, it’s not like that.”

“Pretty Omega like that?” Isabela purred.

Fenris clenched his hands into fists, his weaker one giving a twinge. Anders slid a hand over his fist. Fenris glanced up at him and grumbled.

“Isabela,” Anders chided.

“We rescued him from a magister, Izzy. Quit it.” Hawke pulled Isabela onto her lap. “Behave, love.”

“Ugh. No fun. He’s so pretty. I just want to lick those tattoos.”

“They are not tattoos,” Fenris growled. “They are lyrium.”

Isabela closed her mouth, her gaze filled with dawning understanding. “Is he dead?”

“Killed him myself,” Nathaniel said. “And you’re upsetting Bethany, Isabela. She likes Fenris too much to deal with your teasing tonight.”

“Fine, fine. I get it.” Isabela sighed. Her gaze landed on Anders, and she smiled wider. “Anders, love. You have been with him a lot.”

“I’m a healer,” Anders said as he cupped his mug of ale.

“Why...are you two a match? Mating? Courting?”

“Izzy.” Anders groaned.

“Why are we even talking about this?” Carver grabbed the deck of cards to begin shuffling them. “This is card night, we’re playing cards.”

“Does Pounce like him?” Merrill piped up.

“Yes he does,” Anders said with a nod.

“Fenris, if you’re looking for work, the Guard has some assignments that will require some extra muscle. If you’re interested,” Aveline said. “Pay’s good and it’s all local.”

“I...thank you,” Fenris nodded at her.

“And I need to make a run to the Bone Pit. Stop groaning, Anders. I bet we killed all those spiders. Right?” Hawke grinned. “What else could be out there? A High Dragon?”

Nathaniel and Anders shared a look.

“I’m not going along, Nate.” Anders held up his hands. “This isn’t Warden business.”

“I thought you weren’t a Warden.” Fenris was watching Nate shoot Anders a glare.

“It’s complicated.”

“The Commander is too nice for her own good.” Nathaniel cut in. “He should have taken the joining. Instead he’s a Conscript.”

“But you are a Warden?” Fenris asked Nathaniel.

“I am. And his babysitter,” Nathaniel scowled.

“Hey, I led you to Bethany. I get full credit for that.” Anders winked at Bethany, who giggled. “The Commander didn’t let me try the joining for...reasons…”

“Those reasons are because you’re a good scam artist and she’s soft.” Nathaniel grumbled.

Anders toyed with his mug, ignoring the group for a moment. Fenris noticed that nobody had even seemed to notice the argument except for Bethany, who had her hand on Nathaniel’s arm. Fenris glanced over at Anders and saw pallor in his cheeks, a slight shaking in his hand. Anders took a deep drink of ale, cleared his throat, and laughed. “Well, you know, I am a charming bastard. All the templars think so.”

Nathaniel went to respond when an urchin burst into the room. “Healer. It’s the chokedamp again.”

Anders groaned. “One night. I just want one night to enjoy some ale. How many? Where?”

“Almost all the lower tunnels. The line’s forming. Lirene sent me to get you.” The urchin hopped from one foot to the next.

“Fair. Here’s a silver for your efforts. Spend it on food, you hear me? Nate? Please make sure Fenris makes it home. Well, it’s been fun.” Anders stood, patting Fenris’ shoulder. “Stay and enjoy yourself. I’ll be home tomorrow. I think.” He turned and followed the urchin.

“Don’t you feel like an ass?” Bethany poked Nathaniel. “And don’t you dare say no.”

Fenris watched as Nathaniel sighed and nodded at Bethany. The group returned to their cards as if this was a normal occurrence, which Fenris realized it probably was. Somebody asked if he played Wicked Grace, and he responded in the affirmative. Danarius had played often enough.

Sitting there amidst near strangers, Fenris had a sudden wish for Anders to be there with him. He hoped that Anders would be home when he returned. He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep without the mage nearby.

***

“Please tell me that’s the last of it.” Anders dropped a crate of linens on the bed and rubbed his lower back. “Is there anything left in the cart?”

Fenris snorted, put down a bag, and then headed back down the stairs. The cart’s owner was waiting outside, picking at his teeth. Fenris grabbed the last bag and pulled a few coppers from his coin pouch. “Thank you for your aid.”

“No worries. Enjoy the home.” The man tipped his hat and grabbed the handles of the cart, heading down the street with a jaunty walk. Fenris slung the bag over his shoulders and went back inside, closing the door behind him.

He could hear rustling coming from upstairs, steps sounding over the floor as Anders moved around in one of the bedrooms. Pounce was sitting in the hall staring at him with wide eyes, tail flicking lazily. “You alright?” Fenris asked the cat.

Pounce stretched and sauntered back to the kitchen. Fenris had to admire the cat’s confidence. He was feeling stretched and worried. The newness of the situation had him on edge. To have a home, a place that was his...well, his and Anders...was unfathomable. Slaves didn’t have homes. They didn’t own items. They didn’t have friends or mates.

He resettled the bag against his shoulder and started up the stairs. He could see Anders making up a bed. Fenris glanced into the other room and hesitated. Anders saw him and stopped smoothing down the sheets.

“You alright?”

“Yes. I was thinking,” Fenris said shyly. “I would like to try sleeping next to you.”

Anders stiffened. “You would?”

“Do not take this to mean I wish for more. I simply wish to see if…”

“If?” Anders turned and took a step towards him.

“I trust you, Anders,” Fenris said tentatively. “Enough to try this. You say we are courting.” The word felt strange in his mouth, and he frowned.

“I’m trying to court you, yes.” Anders took another step towards him.

“I have been on the run for years. I hid in small towns and large cities. I sold my sword arm and traveled with mercenaries. But I never just lived with someone.” Fenris inhaled when he realized how close Anders had gotten. “I have never had a home.”

Anders’ fingers feathered over Fenris’ chin, the touch a whisper of a caress. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes?” Fenris asked, settling into a firmer “yes” as Anders’ lips ghosted over his. Warmth spread down his neck at the tender brush of lips. Anders made to pull back, and Fenris grabbed a handful of his tunic and yanked him down into another kiss - this one scorching passion and fire - the nip of teeth and the taste of tongue. It left them clinging to each other, breathless and swaying.

“Are you hungry?” Anders wheezed, visibly gathering his thoughts. “We should eat? Yes...eat.”

“Yes?” Fenris asked again before standing up on his tiptoes to nuzzle Anders’ neck.

“I didn’t ask, and maybe this is a poor time to but...can you cook?” Anders was clutching at Fenris’ back. “Maker, if you don’t stop I’m going to drag you to the bed and do wicked things to you.”

Fenris chuckled. “I do not cook, mage.”

“Balls. Neither do I.” Anders huffed and then twirled them, pressing Fenris back to the bed and then down. “Hi,” he murmured, grinning down into Fenris’ face.

“This is not getting food,” Fenris said as he mock-frowned.

“This is better than either of us poking that terrifying looking stove downstairs and possibly burning the house down.” Anders leaned down to nibble at Fenris’ neck.

“Anders,” Fenris groaned.

“Can we make out at bedtime?” Anders wiggled his eyebrows. “Neck?”

“You are ridiculous.”

“Is that a no?”

“Fasta vass. It is a yes.” Fenris pushed at Anders. “I am hungry. Get off me.”

Anders laughed and rolled off of Fenris, holding out his hand. “I know a good kebab stall. How does that sound?”

“It isn’t rat is it?” Fenris straightened his tunic and raised an eyebrow at Anders.

“No. It’s, ah...um...meat. Not fish. Meat...y. Maybe chicken? Sometimes I think it’s druffalo. They could import it...or it could be rat. Who would know?” Anders brushed a hand over his hair.

“Fine. Show me to this oh-so inspiring kebab stall. I will require sweets on the way home.” Fenris sniffed.

“Kebabs and a visit to the pastry stall. Perfect.” Anders skipped from the room.

Fenris touched his lips, his tongue swiping over them as he remembered Anders’ taste, his weight, the feeling of his arms. Shivering, he headed from the room and followed Anders down the stairs and then out into the market.

The kebabs were not rat. The vendor had proudly proclaimed them to be ram meat, and a recipe that belonged to his dear old mum. Fenris felt the mum part was a bit shady, but the kebabs were rather good.

So were the pastries - sweet and light and filled with berries and cream. He ordered five of them and proceeded to eat all five while shopping for food and walking back home. By the time they reached the house, the pastries were gone and Fenris was licking cream from his fingers.

It was satisfying in a way he had never experienced before. Fenris was pleased to see the fruit vendor still open when they returned and he bought up apples and pears, delighting in the variety and the fact that the vendor said he was open a full six days a week.

Fresh fruit, right outside his door. And he didn’t have to beg to be allowed to buy any.

“You look like Pounce when he finds a piece of cheese,” Anders remarked.

“The fruit vendor makes me happy. Fruit when I want it.”

“Whenever you want it, and whatever type is in season, yes.” Anders agreed.

“I do not need permission to buy fruit,” Fenris said.

“You don’t need permission to do anything. It would be nice if you let me know when you are going out, but otherwise…”

“I do not have to sleep on the floor or in a closet. I can wear the clothes I want.” Fenris’ face mirrored the awe in his words. “I am not a slave.”

“You are not a slave,” Anders said while putting away the bread.

“Nobody owns me. I am not a thing.”

“You are Fenris,” Anders said simply. “The ridiculously handsome elf who I am happily courting.”

“I am ridiculously handsome?” Fenris arched an eyebrow.

Anders closed the pantry and turned to grin at Fenris. “Astoundingly handsome. A little broody and bossy, but that’s ok.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the bossy one?” Fenris peeked at Anders from under his bangs.

Anders laughed, bending over as he gasped for air. “Oh my. I can nag like nobody’s business, yes. But bossy? No. I’m not at all.”

Fenris quirked an eyebrow, “But you will be…”

“Are we talking personalities or sex here?” Anders grinned and pulled Fenris to him. “Hmm? Are we feeling flirty?”

“Kaffas, do not tease me, mage.” Fenris groused even as he allowed himself to be cuddled. “I just meant, I thought Alphas enjoyed taking charge.”

“I enjoy giving pleasure, Fenris,” Anders whispered into his ear. “I enjoy making my partner squirm and moan and scream and yes, sometimes beg.” Fenris shivered. “I want to hear you moan in pleasure while I taste you, see your writhe under me, over me....”

Fenris gasped and clung to Anders, fingers tight on his shoulders. “Mage…”

Anders cuddled Fenris closer, “One day, I hope you’ll trust me to give that to you.”

“I have never…”

“I know.” Anders rubbed a soothing hand down his back.

“And you do not mind? You seem so…” Fenris searched for the right word. “Experienced.”

“Well, I’ve had a lot of partners, yes. I rebelled with my body as much as possible. Sex is pleasurable. It’s fun.”

Fenris frowned, “So you have had many dalliances?”

“I’ve had a relationship before.” Anders voice radiated sadness. “Karl. We were in the Circle together. To punish me for escaping, they moved him here to Kirkwall. That’s why I’m in Kirkwall, why I came here. We were going to conscript him. But…”

“But?”

“They had made him tranquil just before we came. We conscripted him anyways and sent him to the Warden Commander. Last I heard he was, I was going to say happily but the Tranquil have no emotions. He was working in the Vigil’s library.” Anders shivered and settled. “Suranna knew him.”

“Was he...yours?”

“My mate? No. He was Omega, yes, and we were very close. But mating is forbidden in the Circle.” Anders was rubbing gentle circles over Fenris’ back. “We would have gone back to the Vigil, but Hawke found a Deep Roads entrance and well...the Wardens do love the Deep Roads.”

Fenris gave a rough chuckle, “You don’t?”

“Not really a Warden. Maker, let’s go sit down. I’m beat.” Anders led them to the small sitting room, curling up on the battered sofa. “Suranna, that’s the Commander, she conscripted me. But she refused to let me do the Joining. She was sort of pushed into it herself. She knew me from the Circle as well, and…” Anders shrugged. “She told me that the Joining is a death sentence no matter if you survive or not. I offered to stay and heal and she kept me on as her personal healer.”

“Why is Nate so bitter about it, then?”

“Because he didn’t get a choice. He broke into the Vigil to kill her. Something about him being the son of a nobleman that rebelled during the Blight. Anyway, for him it was Join or death. He chose to Join. He just gets melancholy about it,” Anders said. “To be honest, I’d be melancholy about it too.”

“What if he gets sent back?”

“Then we go to the Vigil. You’d like it. You’d probably be put to work training recruits. Plus, Suranna is deeply against slavery.” Anders grinned. “She’d be thrilled I’m Courting. I should write her.”

“Will she care that I am an elf?” Fenris pulled his knees up, angling himself into the corner of the couch.

“She’s an elf. She’ll just laugh.” Anders tilted his head. “Would you like a bath?”

Fenris frowned at the sudden change in topics. “A bath?”

“In our new bath tub. I could run one for you, warm it up and everything. There’s a heating rune. It’s old, but it still works.”

“A bath does sound nice,” Fenris admitted.

“Then I’ll go do that. Afterwards, I guess we should get some sleep. Infact, I’ll probably be asleep when you come to bed...I mean...assuming…”

“I will try to not wake you up,” Fenris said shyly.

“Make sure the doors are locked before you come up?”

“Of course.”

Fenris rubbed his forehead as he watched Anders leave. He kept his thoughts as clear as possible as he soaked in the warm bath Anders had drawn for him. He didn’t linger after he pulled on leggings and hung up his flannel.

When he was finally curled in bed, nestled against Anders’ side, he relaxed. The house settled around them. He was safe, warm, fed, clean, and content. He nuzzled closer to Anders.

Pounce joined them shortly after. His purr meshed with Fenris’ in the darkened room.


	3. Chapter 3

Fenris locked the door behind him, steps dragging as he slowly climbed the stairs up to the bedroom. He found Pounce sprawled on the bed.

“Mangy cat,” Fenris said affectionately.

Pounce opened one eye and began to purr. Fenris grinned at the sound and removed his sword, propping it up near the bed. The armor followed, hung on a small armor stand Anders had purchased for him. His tunic was removed and left on the floor. Clad in just his dirty leggings, Fenris staggered to the bathing room to fill the tub and activate the heating rune.

This was his routine now. He would go do jobs with Hawke or Aveline and come home, strip, and take a hot bath. Once he was clean he would go downstairs and work on his reading until Anders came home. Sometimes they went to the Hanged Man for dinner, and sometimes they put together something easy in their kitchen.

It was a simple and domestic life. One he enjoyed.

He was on the couch with his book when Anders came home. The sound of the front door opening had him putting the book on his lap and looking up, anticipation curling in his stomach. This was another new thing. Besides being free, being courted, and finding himself living in a house with an Alpha mage by choice, Fenris found himself looking forward to seeing Anders.

Fenris waited patiently for Anders to come home every night, worried when he was running late, and missed him if a job was overnight. The surge of emotions when he saw Anders - contentment, relief, want, warmth - was overwhelming to him. Sometimes he lashed out with barbed words and insults, unable to handle all of the new feelings. Anders never fought back, though there were times he would purse his lips and go for a walk.

Anders stuck his head into the sitting room and smiled, face clearly showing his happiness at seeing Fenris. “Hey. How was your day? How are you feeling?”

Fenris tried to remain stoic, placing his book on the small coffee table. “Hawke wishes you to join us tomorrow. There is a blood mage on the Wounded Coast she is tasked with finding. She also has a job from Aveline to find slavers further near Sundermount.”

Anders moved to sprawl on the couch next to Fenris. “So an overnight? And she needs me because…”

“There are rumors the slavers took children from the Alienage,” Fenris said. He tightened his jaw. “And I believe she wishes to save the mage. Hawke is very foolish.”

“Hawke is the daughter of an apostate, has an apostate sister, and her brother is mated to an apostate,” Anders explained. He closed his eyes and grumbled, “Fine. I’ll go. When are we meeting?”

“Mid-morning.”

“At least we aren’t setting out at the crack of dawn. Maker, what a day.” Anders opened his eyes and met Fenris’ gaze. “You never answered my questions.”

“My day was spent hounding a merchant who had stolen from another merchant. It was satisfying.”

“And how do you feel?”

Fenris shrugged.

“Fenris?”

Fenris huffed and crawled onto Anders’ lap. His ears were flushed red and quivering, but the look on his face was intense concentration - eyes narrowed and tongue peeking from his lips. This was the other new thing in his life. Fenris sometimes found himself desiring to touch Anders, to kiss and rub against him. He had hid the first few times the urge hit, but Anders had gently explained how this was normal for a mating pair.

So Fenris pushed himself a little more each time he got the urge. He would sit on Anders’ lap, touch Anders’ face, press kisses to his chin. And Anders would sit there quietly and let him. Now Fenris ran a finger over Anders’ chin, his nail scratching lightly at the stubble-covered skin. Anders shivered but otherwise held still, even when Fenris leaned forward to nibble where his finger had stroked.

“Fen…” Anders said on an exhale.

“Yes?” Fenris leaned completely against Anders’ chest and pushed his face against Anders’ neck. He inhaled and purred.

“May I touch you?”

“Yes.”

Anders wrapped his arms around Fenris and cuddled him close. Fenris purred louder, rubbing lightly against Anders’ chest. Anders arms tightened and he chuckled. “You are surprisingly cuddly.”

“I want…” Fenris huffed, his breath warm against Anders’ skin.

“What do you want?”

“I ache,” Fenris said instead.

Anders hands slid down to cup over Fenris’ backside, squeezing gently. Fenris gasped, rocking forward. Anders did it again, firmly kneading the taut muscle. “I want to feel you so badly. It’s very hard to go this slow.”

Fenris tisked and bit at Anders’ neck. “Why do you go so slow?”

Anders exhaled sharply at the bite. “Because rushing to Mate would be irresponsible of me, Fenris. And if you keep this up, we’re going to have to go upstairs.”

Fenris settled back to look at Anders’ face. “Why upstairs?”

“Well sweetheart, this couch isn’t quite big enough for what I have in mind,” Anders said, drawing one finger up Fenris’ hip.

Fenris blushed and punched Anders’ shoulder. “No teasing.”

Anders laughed, tightened his grip on Fenris, and stood up. Fenris squawked, gripping Anders’ shoulder. “What…”

“You’ll see.”

“Mage, put me down,” Fenris demanded.

“I have a name and it’s Anders,” Anders sang as he headed upstairs. Fenris grumbled in annoyance but otherwise remained quiet.

Anders walked into their bedroom, shooed Pounce from the bed, and then carefully laid Fenris down. He stepped back and waggled his eyebrows, his hands going to the buckles of his warden blue robe. Fenris pushed himself up on his elbows and gawked up at Anders. “What…”

“Just relax,” Anders said as he finished opening his robe, pulling it off and laying it over a chair back. He nudged Fenris over and sat down, untying his boots and pulling them off as well. “Have you ever been allowed to touch somebody?”

“How do you mean?”

Anders finished pulling off his socks and stood, slowly working at the ties on his leggings. “Have you ever been allowed to explore another’s body?”

“No,” Fenris said, flushing. He watched Anders’ pants open and swallowed. “Should I undress?”

“Do you want to?” Anders stopped undressing. “You don’t have to.”

“I…” Fenris hesitated and then sat up. “I will. You have already seen all of me.”

Humming, Anders slid his pants off. Fenris toyed with the hem of his tunic and then pulled it off and let it slip from his fingers to the floor. He slid off the loose leggings he had put on after his bath. Naked, he clenched his hands at his sides and fought to not curled into a ball to hide.

Anders hooked his fingers under the sides of his smalls and removed them. He gave his belly a scratch and then circled the bed, lying down next to Fenris and folding his hands behind his head. “Now then. If you want me to roll over, just let me know. It’s ok to touch me. I won’t get upset.”

Fenris sat up, settled himself on his knees, and took in all of Anders. Slowly, he placed a hand on Anders’ chest and rubbed over the light mat of hair. “It’s springy,” Fenris said in surprise. “And soft.”

Anders wiggled a little, getting more comfortable. Fenris hesitated before touching one shoulder, following a line of freckles from Anders’ shoulder to his clavicle. Anders closed his eyes, relaxing under the teasingly light touches. Fenris stroked Anders’ chest hair, rubbed up and down his sides, brushed over his legs and up around his thighs. A hesitant “can you turn over” had Anders rolling to his stomach and stretching. Fenris laid a hand on Anders’ backside and gave an experimental squeeze, making Anders chuckle.

Fenris’ hand slowed as it slid up Anders’ back. The skin was ridged and scarred from his waist up, a little rough and uneven. “You were whipped,” Fenris said on an exhale. “Enough to scar.”

“For escaping,” Anders explained. “They tried all sorts of ways to keep me in line. Lucky for me, that last escape led me to Surana.”

Fenris stroked one particularly long scar, following it across Anders’ back. He slid his hand back down to brush over Anders’ backside and then slowly between his thighs. “Roll back over?”

Anders did, shivering at the sweep of Fenris’ hand up his leg. Fenris glanced up at Anders’ face before wrapping his hand around Anders’ hardening length. Anders gave a groan, head falling back to the pillows. “Fenris…”

“You are bigger than I had expected.” Fenris gave an experimental stroke. His fingers slid down to tease over the base of Anders’ cock. “Do you knot?”

Anders laughed huskily. “Keep stroking and find out.”

Fenris ducked his head. “I do not know if I am doing this correctly.”

“Wait. Let me show you.” Anders rolled off the bed and went to rummage in a chest. He came back holding a small pot, opening it and scooping out something sweet smelling. “Slick. To make things easier. Let me have your hand?”

Fenris held his hand out and started at the feeling of slick being wiped on his fingers. Anders put the pot on the table next to the bed and then lay back. “Now you can, I was going to say play, but Maker I’m already dying.”

Fenris ignored Anders’ words and went back to stroking his hand up and down Anders’ cock. Each stroke pulled a low moan from Anders. Fenris felt heat pool low in his stomach, his own cock twitching and hardening. He whimpered, his other hand snaking down his body to wrap around and stroke himself.

Anders’ grip around his wrist brought Fenris back to himself. His gaze shot up to meet Anders’ and he flinched. “I’m sorry...I won’t…”

“Shh. It’s ok. You can touch yourself. You can touch me. Here, I want to try something. Can you straddle me?” Anders removed his hand from around Fenris’ wrist and instead stroked it over his hip. “You can say no.”

Fenris shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Heat thrummed through him, beat at his mind in time with his pulse. The steady stroke of Anders’ fingers over his hip spurred him to trust, and he eased himself over Anders till he was sitting on Anders’ thighs. Anders smiled and reached down, wrapping his hand around both his and Fenris’ cocks, the warm slick easing each stroke.

Fenris shook, overwhelming pleasure shivering up his body with each slide of Anders’ palm. Panting, he leaned forward and braced himself. His hips snapped forward on their own. He moaned in surprise and did it again, the thrust dragging him over Anders’ length and hand, the friction a torturous wave of pleasure that drove him to keep moving.

Anders gave sudden groan and lunged up, wrapping an arm around Fenris and rolling them both so that he was on top and kneeling between Fenris’ legs. His lips crashed against Fenris’, teeth and tongue tasting and nipping at Fenris, driving the want higher. Fenris cried out as Anders bit down on his ear, licking over the point.

“Please,” Fenris keened. “I need…”

“I know. I have you. It’s ok. You can come. It’s ok,” Anders crooned.

Fenris twisted, dug his heels into the bed, and gave a surprised shout as he thrust into Anders’ hand. Anders groaned and shivered, their spend splattering over Fenris’ chest and stomach. Anders caught himself on his hands, caging Fenris. “Maker…” His hip jerked forward and Fenris gave a ragged moan. “Sorry...it’s been a while and...I’m sorry.”

Fenris quivered, wide-eyed and silent. Slowly, he touched Anders’ chin, then his cheek, then his hair. A flush started at Fenris’ cheeks and slid up to the tip of his ears. “Do not apologize,” he said.

“I just did the complete opposite of what I said I would do,” Anders said. “I am so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Anders,” Fenris said patiently. “That was amazing.”

Anders slowly smiled, his face brightening. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“You did not tell me if you knot.”

Anders’ smile turned into a teasing grin. “Well, I suppose it’s just something you’ll have to find out, huh?”

Fenris roll his eyes. “I need a bath. We both need a bath.”

“Your wish is my command,” Anders said, his voice light and happy. “Whatever you want, Fenris. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

***

“I want my feet rubbed,” Fenris whispered to Anders as they set up camp. “And I want to know who told Aveline that rumor that elves were taken by slavers so I can crush their hearts.”

The cave that was supposed to be holding slavers had been filled with giant poisonous spiders. An extensive search of the area and a quick visit to the Dalish confirmed that there were no slavers. Giant man-eating spiders, yes. Slavers with little baby elves? No.

There had been a mage on the coast - an older man with greying hair and wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled. He admitted to having slipped away from the Gallows. When asked how he had done it he had grinned and said something to the effect of “shit has to go somewhere.” When Hawke had asked the mage if he was a blood mage, he had laughed and happily shown off his unmarked hands and arms. Hawke had sighed, given him some coin , food, and directions away from Kirkwall.

Anders smothered a smile and instead nodded at their tent. “If you go on in, I can rub your feet.”

Fenris hesitated. “Will they...us sharing a tent…”

“They won’t care. I promise.” Anders casually gazed around the campsite. Nobody was paying them any attention. “Go on.”

Fenris huffed. “I shall punch any who teases me.”

“Well, that’s frightening. With or without the glowing?”

“It shall depend on the level of teasing.” Fenris crawled into their tent, settling onto the blankets Anders had laid out. Anders followed a moment later, closed the tent flap, and settled down near Fenris’ feet. He picked up one foot and began to smooth his thumbs up the bottom, heel to toes. Fenris let out a groan and flopped back on the blankets.

“How are you feeling? We did quite a bit of hiking today.”

“Bah, I am fine, mage.”

“My name is Anders,” Anders said gently. “Not mage.”

Fenris turned his head so that he could stare at the tent. He frowned, his face screwing up into displeasure even as he started to purr with each stroke from Anders’ fingers. Quiet filled the tent - a relaxed quiet. Anders’ fingers found a sore spot on the arch of his foot and he felt warmth radiate up his leg.

“Anders,” he said finally.

Anders glanced up at him, giving him a smile. “Yes?”

“I am fine, Anders.” Fenris frowned through the words.

Anders stilled his movements, head cocking. “I’m not your master, Fenris. I just don’t like being called mage.”

“It is what you are, is it not?”

“Well yes. I am a mage, but I’m more than that. I love cats and rainy days and all manner of pies. My favorite food is gravy covered roast and potatoes. I hate oatmeal. Oh Maker, how I hate oatmeal. They served it every day in the Circle. No sugar, just oats. Like eating paste.” Anders stopped talking, his nose crinkling. “I was making a point. Ah! The point is that I am more than just my magic.”

Fenris stared at the top of the tent. He huffed before shaking his head. Anders began rubbing his foot again, humming a peaceful tune under his breath. That warmth was back, smoothing up the arch of his foot and then back down to be pressed into the heel. A wave of lethargy slipped up Fenris, and he yawned.

“I do not like oatmeal, either. Slaves ate it for breakfast and some kind of mushy porridge for dinner.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“With fish. I hate fish.”

Anders stopped again. “Fish porridge? That’s just cruel. On a scale of Orlesian cakes to solitary, I set that somewhere in the week two of solitary. You know, the week you realize they aren’t coming to get you anytime soon and you’ve exhausted your games of ‘I Spy’?”

Fenris stiffened. “You were in solitary?”

“An entire year. If they thought that would put me off of running well, they were wrong.” Anders’ jaunty tone didn’t match the stricken look in his gaze. His voice quieted. “It was so dark, so quiet. Nothing but my thoughts and the dripping of water. Sometimes I’d luck out and the Circle’s old mouser would visit. I still have nightmares of it.”

Fenris stared. “I have not seen you have a nightmare.”

“No.” Anders’ voice turned thoughtful. “I haven’t had one since we started sleeping next to each other.” He bent his head and returned to rubbing Fenris’ feet. Fenris lay back and allowed himself to drift as warm fingers soothed him.

It was over dinner that the ribbing started. Anders was in the process of handing him his plate when Isabela spoke up. “So Anders, I haven’t seen you at the Blooming Rose in weeks. You must really be serious about Fenris.”

“They haven’t had any sudden emergencies for once,” Anders said dryly. “You must have stopped visiting them. The incidences of itching have dropped.” Isabela stuck out her tongue, and he gave her a toothy smile.

Hawke looked up from her dinner and raised an eyebrow at Isabela. “Love, they’re courting. Leave them alone.”

“I never thought I’d see the day that Anders courted,” Varric said. “Yet look at how domestic he is, bringing Broody his plate and fussing over him.

Fenris could feel his ears pinking and he growled under his breath. “Leave it be, Dwarf.”

“Oh come on, Boody…”

“My name is Fenris.” Fenris glared at Varric before glancing at Anders, realizing he sounded a lot like his mage. Anders just snorted and bit into the pheasant on his plate.

“Now Varric, I know I’m a handsome mage and oh-so-charming, but I can be very loyal.” Nathaniel scoffed at that. “I can be. Have I run from the Wardens? No. Have I fled from my responsibilities here? Not at all. I am content with where I am.”

“You’re content because as long as you have the Wardens, the templars can’t drag you back.” Nathaniel jabbed his fork at Anders. “And you best remember that.”

“No templar will touch my mage,” Fenris said, his voice low.

“Fenris, it’s alright.” Anders soothed. “Nathaniel gets touchy, we bicker, and then we apologize. We really are friends. Right, Nate? I mean, I grew on him.”

“Like some sort of parasite,” Nathaniel muttered. “I apologize, my words were unnecessarily cruel. I would never wish you back in the Circle. I am tired and today was a waste of time. I should not take it out on you.”

Anders beamed a smile at Nathaniel. Fenris glanced between the two men and took a bite of potato. He stopped chewing when he remembered his words, the ‘my mage’ that had slipped from him. He glanced at Anders, watching his mage joke with Nathaniel.

The warm spurt of happiness and contentment was unexpected. Fenris slowly put his plate down and stared at his hands while the conversation washed over him. Anders’ fingers on his thigh had him glancing back up.

“What is it?” Anders whispered.

“I…” Fenris didn’t know how to explain.

“Eat. We can talk later. But you do need to eat. Please?” Anders picked up Fenris’ plate and held it out.

Fenris hesitated and then took the plate, taking a bite of pheasant. Anders’ smile had Fenris’ ears twitching and pinking. He ducked his head and took another bite, trying to ignore the little flare of joy.

That joy stayed with him, the little kernel of happy settling into his chest and making him want to rub his hand over his breastbone. It stayed there through dinner and the joking conversation afterwards, through the discussion of who would take what watch, and through getting ready for bed.

When Anders settled next to him, Fenris rolled to his side and stared at the tent. The joy was still there,and it made him twitchy. Anders moved up behind him to cuddle against his back, a long lean line of warmth that covered him from neck to feet.

“Fenris?” Anders whispered. “Are you alright?”

“I do not know,” Fenris said softly. “I feel strange.”

“Good or bad strange?”

Fenris huffed. “I do not know.”

“Did I upset you?”

“I called you my mage.” Fenris stiffened when he realized what he had just said.

Anders lay quietly against him, his breathing the only sound in the tent. Fenris could hear Isabela’s sudden laughter and Nathaniel’s yell to shut up already. But from Anders, there was no sound, no words. Fenris panicked.

“I did not mean to offend you,” he said quickly. Fear swallowed up the joy. “I cannot own you. You are not…”

“Do you really feel that way about me? That I am your mage?” Anders draped an arm around Fenris and squeezed.

Fenris could only hold himself still, too afraid to respond. Anders’ breath wafted over his neck and he shuddered.

“I can smell your scent spiking,” Anders whispered. ‘I’m not mad, Fenris. It’s ok.”

“I should not presume…”

“I want to be your mage.”

The words had Fenris going quiet again. This time he squirmed, rolling over to face Anders. “I do not understand.”

“I want to be your mage. You’re my elf, my Fenris.” Anders slowly drew Fenris in and Fenris burrowed against Anders’ neck. “I can’t tell you how much I wish we were at home.”

Fenris let out a tiny laugh, nuzzling Anders’ neck. “I can feel you against me.”

“Mm, I want you. Badly.” Anders thrust against him, and Fenris smothered a moan against Anders’ neck. “Yes, like that. I could lift your leg and just…” Anders exhaled. “I’m sorry, Fen.”

“I am a free man, Anders.”

“Yes you are, Fenris.”

“If I am free, then I can decide if I want or not, correct?”

“That’s correct,” Anders agreed, pulling Fenris flush against him and rolling so that the elf was on top of him. “What do you want?”

“More.” Fenris sat up and rocked over Anders’ growing erection.

“Do you really? How much more?” Anders gripped Fenris’ hips to still his movements. “More touching? More kissing?”

“Will you...can we try…” Fenris blew out a breath. “Must we be fully mated to...to…”

“No. Not really.” Anders rubbed small circles over Fenris’ hips. “Though I won’t knot you unless you’re serious about us being together. Maker knows, sometimes I want to so badly I have to take a walk.”

“Truly?”

“Sometimes I smell you and want nothing more than to knot you. To hear you moaning my name while we’re joined together. To see my mark on your neck.” Anders swallowed. “I want it to be good for you.”

Fenris sprawled over Anders’ chest. “Part of me is afraid,” he admitted. “I do these things - let you touch me, hold me...and then I feel anger at myself. Am I giving in to another mage because this is all I know? Will I always be a slave to a mage?”

“Being Omega doesn’t make you a slave, Fenris. It doesn’t make you anything but Omega. If you feel that way, it would be best if we waited.” Anders gently rubbed his hand up and down Fenris’ back. “Can you understand?”

Fenris pressed his face against Anders’ chest. His heart and mind warred - one urging him to give in while the other reminded him of what mages were capable of. In that moment, he felt Anders’ hand rub over his back - comforting and soothing. When Anders’ hand reached Fenris’ hips, it stilled before sliding back up.

“I don’t wish to wait. Please?”

“When we get home. I’m not knotting you in a tent,” Anders teased. “Isabela would just yell advice.”

Fenris couldn’t stop the chuckle that burst from him, pressing his face firmly against Anders’ chest as he shook with laughter, nerves, and anticipation. Anders didn’t move him, simply wiggled till he could get the blankets up and then let out a little hum, relaxing. Fenris pressed a gentle kiss to Anders’ chest and tried to sleep.

***

Fenris tweaked the blanket one more time, nodding at the perfect fold and drape of the cloth. He gazed around the room with a critical look, noting the fresh sheets and blankets, the spray of carnations near the bed, and the plate of fruit. He gave another nod and went to go bathe, hoping he could be ready before Anders returned home.

He was curled up on the couch with Pounce when Anders came home. Anders stepped into the living room and came to a stop. “Hi love. Well, don’t we look comfortable? What are we up to?”

Pounce hopped off the couch to wrap around Anders’ legs, purring loudly. Fenris smiled and rubbed a hand over his breastbone. “I was petting Pounce.”

“Shirtless? A daring move.”

Fenris stood. “Well, I…”

“Are you alright?”

Fenris exhaled and swallowed down the wave of anxiety that threatened to buckle his knees. He stepped up to Anders, wrapped his arms around him, and said, “I want to Mate.”

His ears were quivering, pinked and flushed, as he waited for Anders to say something. When the silence stretched on, he leaned up to press a kiss to Anders’ chin. “I bathed. There are fresh sheets on the bed. I...I have been able to think of little else today.”

“It’s too early for a Heat,” Anders croaked.

“I am not in Heat.” Fenris’ grip tightened. “We spoke of this on the coast, yet you have made no move to bind us together.”

“We spoke of knotting,” Anders said faintly.

“Mate me,” Fenris whispered against Anders’ chin. “Knot me. Please?”

“Andraste give me strength.” Anders seemed to be praying, his hands flexing against Fenris’ back. “Are you sure?”

“It has been a week since the coast and I can think of nothing else. If I am free to choose, I choose this.” Fenris nuzzled against Anders’ neck. “I choose you.”

Anders hesitated briefly, just long enough for worry to sprout in Fenris’ chest, before picking him up. Anders clutched Fenris tightly to his chest as he turned to head from the living room. Fenris wrapped his legs around Anders’ waist, his arms around Anders’ shoulders, and pressed open-mouthed kisses along his stubbled jaw.

The trip up the stairs was mercifully brief, Anders only staggering once when Fenris bit down on his earlobe and began to suckle. He rushed into the bedroom and carefully lay Fenris down on the bed, backing away so he could start pulling off his clothes.

Fenris bit his lower lip as his hands slid down his chest, grasped the waistband of his pants, and then slowly pulled them over his hips and off. He tossed the pants off the bed and reached above him, holding himself still while Anders looked his fill.

A few hops to pull off his boots, a little wiggling to remove his pants and tunic, and then Anders was sliding over Fenris. He straddled Fenris’ hips and sat up. “No need to have your arms up, sweetheart. You can touch all you want.”

Anders followed his words up with a kiss - long and languid, all tongue and sliding lips. Fenris groaned, wrapping his arms around Anders and clutching. His hips thrust up as desire took hold, and he moaned into Anders’ mouth.

“I’m going to mark you, sweetheart. Right here,” Anders said, licking just below Fenris’ ear. “Alright?”

“Yes, please.” Fenris tilted his head to the side and gasped when Anders’ licked him again.

“I’m going to mark you as mine and then I’m going to make you scream with pleasure,” Anders whispered against Fenris’ skin. “And when we’re done here, I’m going to bathe you, feed you, and do it all over again.”

Fenris squirmed at Anders’ words, panting shallowly. Another lick had him digging his nails into Anders’ back. There was a sharp pain and a wash of pleasure. Anders sucked, hard, at Fenris’ neck. As the mark formed, something seemed to snap between them - a thread of comfort, desire, want, and home that grew stronger until Anders pulled away and everything settled. Fenris gasped at the feeling of belonging.

“Feel ok?” Anders trailed his lips down Fenris’ neck.

“Yes. Oh yes…” Fenris squirmed, gasping again as Anders bit at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

“You look so good wearing my Mark,” Anders whispered as he licked down Fenris’ chest, nibbling and leaving tiny bruises.

Fenris writhed as Anders latched onto one of his nipples, suckling and biting until the nub was swollen. Then he moved to the other, paying it equal attention. With each lick and bite, each kiss and nibble, heat built low in Fenris’ belly. Anders finally stopped when he reached Fenris’ cock, blowing lightly over the head and nuzzling his hip.

Fenris clutched at the sheets and fought to not come from that. Anders glanced up at him and grinned, licking a long stripe up the hard length. “I’m going to make you scream with pleasure, and then I’m going to roll you over and make you hard again.”

“How?” Fenris arched his hips as Anders lapped over the head, pressing his tongue against the sensitive slit.

“We’re newly Mated. You’ll be wet and ready for me. Trust me, Fenris. I won’t hurt you. All you’ll feel is pleasure,” Anders whispered, gaze on Fenris’ face.

Fenris nodded, “I trust you. Please…”

Anders swallowed him down, holding onto his hips as he worked his mouth up and down Fenris’ length until Fenris sobbed out his release, hands clutching Anders’ hair as he came. Anders didn’t stop lapping at him until he was twitching and mewling. Only then did he pull back and gently roll Fenris over, sliding up his back to press kisses along his neck.

Fenris could feel Anders’ heavy erection pressing against his ass, the head sliding up and down his cleft. Between the teasing slide of Anders’ cock and the feeling of Anders’ lips and tongue traveling over his back, it wasn’t long before Fenris felt himself start to grow hard again.

Anders’ lips met the small of Fenris’ back and they ghosted over the skin, his tongue trailing down his cleft to press, lightly, against his hole. Fenris’ eyes grew round as Anders lapped and teased, nibbled and bit lightly, and finally, pressed inside.

It was maddening: the stretch, the wetness, the licking. Maddening and arousing. Fenris slid up to his knees so that he could thrust back on Anders’ tongue, moaning non-stop. Anders pulled back and teasingly slid his finger around Fenris’ wet and relaxed hole.

“Breathe for me, love,” Anders said as he slowly slid one finger in. Fenris exhaled and tried to relax, stiffening in surprise as Anders’ finger brushed over something...some sensitive spot...that made stars burst behind his eyelids. “That’s right, relax.”

Fenris couldn’t find the words to say anything. All he could do was rock back as one and then two fingers were added. Anders pulled away briefly after that, and when he returned, he drizzled something cool down Fenris’ cleft and worked it into him with three fingers until Fenris was growling.

“I cannot...Anders...I cannot wait…” Fenris pleaded.

Anders laughed and lay back on the bed. Fenris turned his head to see Anders’ smoothing slick over his cock. “Straddle me. I think this way will work best.”

Fenris crawled to him, straddling Anders’ hips. He felt Anders grip his hip tightly. “Lower yourself slowly. I’ve got you. Shh...I’ve got you...just breathe.”

Fenris pressed back, tensing slightly at the feeling of Anders’ cock pressing against his hole, but he forced himself to relax, and gradually, he worked himself down until he was settled on Anders’ lap. He felt so full, and the need to move was overwhelming. That first slide up had his breath catching. The glide down had a groan exploding from him.

Anders gripped Fenris’ hips and began to help him move, rocking up to meet Fenris’ downward thrusts until both men were gasping. Sweat dotted Fenris’ forehead as he moved over Anders, his fingers digging into Anders’ chest with each thrust down.

They sped up, Fenris letting out a choking gasp of pleasure when Anders suddenly pulled him down and held him still, his hips rocking slowly as his knot started to swell. The pressure grew and Fenris sobbed, swirling his hips in a circle as he tried to crest, nearly yelling when Anders wrapped one slick hand around his cock and began to stroke him.

The pressure burst and he did yell as he came, his spend splattering over Anders’ chest. Anders gave a hiss of pleasure and moaned Fenris’ name as he came.

Fenris swayed forward to cuddle against Anders’ chest, content and relaxed. Anders’ fingers stroked over the mating mark and Fenris went boneless. He nuzzled against Anders and settled to wait out the knot, purring gently while Anders lightly stroked the mark that tied them together.

***

“It looks good on you.” Anders stood behind him, one finger lightly petting the Mating mark. “I managed to make it small.”

Fenris tilted his head to the side, his ears flicking lightly as Anders kept petting him. “I am not a cat.”

“Mm. I can’t help it. I just want to gather you up and cover you in kisses. Since you’d probably punch me, I’ll have to settle for this.” Anders bent down and pressed a light kiss to the mark. “My Fenris.”

Fenris stiffened briefly and then relaxed. “My mage,” He mumbled, ducking his head as shyness welled up.

“Fenris?”

“Mm?” Fenris turned to gaze up at Anders. “Yes?”

“I don’t own you. You are free. The mark doesn’t mean I’m your master. You know that, right?” Anders’ eyebrows were furrowed and he was chewing on one corner of his lower lip. “I don’t want you think…”

“Anders.” Fenris reached up to touch Anders’ lips. “I know.”

Anders relaxed, tugging Fenris into a loose hug. Fenris huffed in laughter. “I am more free with you than I have ever been, and we are now Mated.”

“That’s because I’m your partner, not your master.” Anders tucked Fenris against his chest. “Remember what you said when we first met on the coast? Never again? I swear to you, never again Fenris. You will never be enslaved again.”

“I’m free,” Fenris murmured against Anders’ neck. “I’m free and I chose to Mate with a mage. There is much irony in that.” Anders’ response was to squeeze Fenris tightly.

“Can we have apple pastries for dinner?” Fenris asked after a few minutes.

Laughing, Anders pulled back. “Sweetheart, you’re free. You can have whatever you want for dinner.”

“Then I want apple pastries for dinner. And for dessert…” Fenris arched an eyebrow and slid one hand over Anders’ ass. “I want you to make me moan.”

“Oh well. By all means. Let’s do things your way.”

“My way.” Fenris smiled at the words. “Because I am free.”


End file.
